Tales of Golmeira- The Complete Box Set

by Marianne Ratcliffe

  Kastara flushed, thinking about Torvin.

  ‘They’re important to me.’

  ‘If it makes you feel better, I find Torvin attractive too,’ Findar said, with a shy smile. ‘Most people would.’

  ‘Torvin?’ Myka raised an eyebrow. ‘Mata’s lad? Oh, he is pretty I suppose. But he’s in love already.’

  ‘No way!’ Kastara exclaimed. ‘Who with? And how do you know?’

  ‘I don’t know for sure, and even if I did it wouldn’t be my secret to tell. And no trying to peek.’

  ‘If you were a friend, you’d tell us. Poor Fin has the right to know.’

  Findar chuckled.

  ‘Don’t worry about me. I said Torvin was attractive, not that I was in love with him.’

  ‘I suppose you have someone else in mind for that honour,’ Kastara remarked with a grin. To her surprise, Findar blushed.

  ‘Perhaps I do,’ he said, but refused to elaborate.

  ‘You and your secrets. You still won’t tell me what Zax wanted.’

  Findar shrugged.

  ‘I promised him I wouldn’t tell.’

  ‘You are both so annoying.’

  ‘You think we’re the annoying ones?’ Findar looked at Myka and winked.

  ‘I wish we could get off this island for a bit,’ Kastara said with a pout. ‘I’m fed up with people prying into my thoughts.’

  ‘But it’s fine for you to poke your nose into everyone else’s secrets,’ said Findar.

  ‘That’s different. Do you suppose Mata will lend us her new yacht?’

  ‘Not after we wrecked the last one.’

  ‘What if we ask to go out with one of the luggers, next time they go fishing?’

  ‘Most Far Islanders are scared of mindweavers. Even untrained ones,’ said Myka

  ‘Especially untrained ones,’ Findar added. ‘Now that Kylen’s insisted all the warships stay here, the only other boat that goes out is the one that takes supplies to the Spur.’

  Kastara’s ears pricked up. ‘I’d like to see the Spur again.’

  ‘Why? It’s just barren rock. Nothing there but a small look-out post,’ Myka said.

  ‘Beats being stuck here. I’ll ask Gildarn if we can go.’

  ‘Maybe you should wait ’til he’s in a better mood,’ Findar suggested.

  ‘My hair will turn grey before that happens.’

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Zastra and her companions rounded the last of the Smoking Mountains and came out above a flat expanse of grey mud, pockmarked with concentric pools of different sizes and colours. It reminded Zastra of an artist’s palette – some of the pools were cloudy blue, others bright red or orange, while yet more were filled with water stained with muted shades of brown and grey. A cluster of yellow pools seethed and bubbled, sending steam swirling up into an overcast sky and a warm breeze wafted up from the flat plain, carrying scents of burnt wood, rotting eggs and the sea. Beyond the pools rose a vast wall of green.

  ‘The Dreaming Pools,’ Urbek remarked. ‘Beyond is being Makhana Forest. My home.’

  ‘Why are they different colours?’ Zastra asked.

  ‘No one is knowing. It is being said that some carry death, others are curing of diseases. But only our healers are knowing which.’

  ‘Is that a path?’ Justyn pointed towards a raised wooden walkway that spanned the pockmarked landscape. Large tents blocked each end, with another in the middle. As they watched, a score of soldiers in grey uniforms emerged from the nearest tent, headed by two druin-ji with their faceless helmets and ribboned pilu.

  ‘A druin-ji patrol,’ said Myshka. ‘None may cross the Dreaming Pools without their permission.’

  A column of smoke rose into the air a few leagues to their left and another a similar distance to their right. No doubt more guard posts.

  ‘Let’s get closer,’ Zastra suggested. Lorzan led the way, so surefooted in his new lastic shoes that he soon outstripped them. They came out on the edge of the muddy plain. Zastra placed her palm on the slippery ground.

  ‘It looks treacherous. Slip into one of these pools and there’s nothing to pull yourself out by.’

  ‘Watch out,’ growled Ithgol. They retreated behind a rock just before a patrol marched past. Beside her, Zastra felt Polina go tense. She took the mindweaver’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Polina closed her eyes until the patrol had gone past.

  ‘What is being the plan?’ Urbek asked.

  ‘We could storm the walkway,’ Ithgol suggested, pulling out one of his scythals and testing the sharpness of one of the points against his thumb.

  Polina shuddered. ‘I think we should avoid a confrontation if we can.’

  ‘I agree, it’s too much of a risk,’ Zastra said, with a glance towards Hylaz. ‘The walkway is well-guarded. Our best chance will be to cross between the pools at night.’

  ‘At night?’ Morvain protested. ‘You said yourself, one slip, and there’s no way to climb back out. In the dark it will be impossible to see our way.’

  ‘We could rope ourselves together,’ suggested Hylaz. ‘Like on a difficult climb. If one falls, the others will take the slack.’

  ‘Unless we get pulled in after. Ithgol’s heavy enough to drag everyone in with him,’ said Morvain.

  ‘You are not being so little either,’ remarked Urbek. ‘I am thinking you are being very scared. Are you not able to do the swimming?’

  ‘That’s not the point,’ Morvain began, tight lipped.

  ‘I can’t swim either,’ said Gwylla in a small voice.

  ‘Nor me,’ admitted Polina.

  ‘Then we’d better tread carefully,’ said Zastra.

  They waited for night to draw in, taking no supper, as it would not do to give away their position by lighting a fire. Besides, most of the company were too nervous to eat. Zastra split them into two groups and assigned Lorzan and Hylaz to the anchor position for each rope. As seasoned climbers, they were used to such responsibility. She separated Urbek and Morvain. Their obvious dislike for each other made it unwise to attach them to the same piece of rope. She explained the plan to Xhoyal and Myshka in Aliterran, in which she grew more fluent by the day.

  ‘Whoever leads must be sure-footed with good balance. You are both such.’

  Myshka nodded. ‘It is wise.’

  Xhoyal grimaced apologetically.

  ‘I do not see well in the dark,’ he said.

  ‘In that case, Myshka will lead the first group, and I will lead the second group. Xhoyal, you will follow directly behind me.’

  ‘I still think this seems foolhardy,’ Morvain protested.

  ‘Do you have a better idea?’ Zastra asked, unsurprised when Morvain gave no answer.

  They chose an entry point mid-way between the walkway and the next guard post. The clouded sky ensured there was no moonslight which made their trip across the pools even more treacherous. On the other hand, there was less chance they would be spotted by any lookouts. As planned, Myshka’s group went first. The ko-venteela woman carried a shaded lamp that cast a small circle of light on the ground by her feet. Lorzan brought up the rear. Zastra kept her own shaded lamp locked onto the Sendoran’s lastic-covered feet as she led the second group onto the mud flat. Her boots slid every time she put down her foot on the slimy surface, forcing her to move gingerly and throw out her arms for balance. Heat rose from the pools, warming the night air.

  The first scent that hit them was sea salt as they passed between pools filled with water the same grey colour as the mud. They inched forward and Zastra silently applauded Myshka’s caution. This was not something to be rushed. She felt the line go taut and slack as the others shuffled behind her. A new scent, rotten and fetid, made her gag. They progressed towards the middle of the flats and the air sweetened as they left the rotting smell behind.

  ‘Thank the stars for that,’ Zastra heard Polina whisper as they shuffled onto a narrow ridge of mud between two large pools. Zastra’s lamp suddenly flickered and died and
they were plunged into blackness. In front, an exclamation broke the silence. Myshka’s circle of light also disappeared.

  ‘Bad air!’ Xhoyal said. ‘We must leave this place. Quickly.’

  ‘This way!’ Myshka’s firm voice cut through the darkness, but Zastra could see nothing. She dared not move. Either side of them, deep pools awaited anyone who took a false step.

  ‘Xhoyal, give me your pilu,’ she said in a harsh whisper. The metal pole was thrust into her hand. She swept the tip along the ground in front of her, feeling for the narrow path and began to inch forward in the darkness, dragging the others after her. Her heart raced and she felt-light headed.

  ‘This way!’ Myshka’s voice seemed to come from the side. Zastra headed toward the sound, sweeping her pilu from side to side. Her giddiness increased. The air was getting worse. She began to force the pace. There was a sudden scream and the line was pulled taut.

  ‘Brace!’ cried Hylaz from the back of their line. Zastra stopped and bent her knees to help keep her balance as the weight on the rope tried to pull her backwards. Beside her, Xhoyal grunted. Their feet slid a little in the mud, but the line held.

  ‘Good. Now pull the line,’ Hylaz instructed. ‘Steady.’ Zastra and Xhoyal heaved together, struggling for grip on the slick surface. The line went slack.

  ‘That’s it, I’m safe,’ Polina gasped. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘We must hurry,’ Xhoyal wheezed. Zastra began to creep forward again, her head pounding. A light appeared to their left. Myshka held up an unshaded lamp, illuminating the path towards her.

  ‘This way,’ she called. Zastra hurried towards her, dragging the others behind, and at last her head cleared.

  ‘Safe now,’ Myshka said. ‘We were fortunate the lamps warned us.’

  Zastra had not considered the sudden plunge into darkness as particularly lucky, but Myshka was right. But for the lamps going out, they would have been unconscious before they even knew their danger. A shout came from the walkway. Myshka quickly dimmed her lamp, but too late. They had been spotted.

  ‘Keep going,’ said Zastra. ‘With any luck, they will choose not to follow us.’

  ‘If they have any sense,’ Polina remarked with a shudder.

  They continued even more cautiously than before. Whenever their lamps began to flicker, Myshka changed direction, skirting the patches of bad air. Lights moved up and down the walkway, but no one attempted to follow them out onto the flats. Zastra’s legs began to cramp with the tension of trying to keep her balance on the slick surface but eventually grass appeared beneath her feet and the ground began to firm up. Unshading their lamps they saw a clump of black tents. Urbek gave a delighted exclamation and strode towards them. Figures emerged, their skin bright yellow even in the lamplight. Urbek greeted them enthusiastically in Aliterran. Then he turned to Zastra.

  ‘We are being here!’ he said. ‘Welcome to my homeland.’

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  The ko-yamacha wore tunics made of thick yellow fibres woven into a mesh, layered over body-hugging shirts of various leafy hues and leggings cut off below the knees. On their feet were lastic boots, and around their shoulders they wore lightweight capes of the same meshwork material as their tunics. All those camping on the shores of the Dreaming Pools bore a line of vertical blue dots upon their foreheads. It signalled they were healers, Urbek explained. They welcomed the strangers into their tents and their wide-eyed interest and eager questions reminded Zastra of Myshka and Xhoyal. It seemed the ko-venteela and ko-yamacha were not so different after all. One of the healers offered them a pot of yellowsap and Urbek began to apply it liberally to his skin, sighing with happiness as his mottled skin became as yellow as the other ko-yamacha.

  ‘This is feeling so good,’ he said. ‘Come, you must be putting it on, else the rains will be hurting.’

  Morvain snorted. ‘We have seen no rain since we left the Serene Sea. Besides, who is afraid of a little water?’

  ‘Are you telling me about my lands, thought-stealer?’

  ‘I will not be introduced to your grand thrall covered in yellow goo. It will seem as if we are pretending to be something we are not.’

  ‘Who is being this grand thrall? Are you meaning Tharl Rafadal?’

  Morvain waved away the correction and screwed up his nose.

  ‘It stinks!’

  Urbek passed the pot to Zastra.

  ‘Tomorrow, when you are changing your mind, you will be asking me most nicely for my stinky yellow goo.’

  ‘I do not think so,’ insisted Morvain. Zastra scooped some yellowsap from the pot. It did have a strong aroma, but she slapped some on her neck anyway.

  ‘I am sure Urbek has good reason for his advice,’ she said. However, Morvain would not back down. Myshka and Xhoyal also refused, insisting that they were proud to be ko-venteela and did not wish to be turned into ko-yamacha. The next morning they set off with three of their party contrasting conspicuously with the yellow skins of the rest.

  As they moved deeper inside the forest, the vegetation grew lusher and the trees taller. Water steamed from damp leaves and their clothes became heavy with moisture. Underfoot, their boots sank into mounds of soft moss. Zenarbia and Gwylla bounded from one to another like children, laughing in pleasure. Above them, a dense canopy blocked most of the sunlight, and where they walked was as dim as a curtained room. The ground sloped downwards and the air grew sweet and sticky. They came to a vast tree, wider than the quarterdeck of the Wind of Golmeira, its dark trunk rising upwards and disappearing into a tangle of green and yellow foliage. Urbek stroked it affectionately, as if it were a pet.

  ‘This is being a yamacha tree. Come, we must be climbing.’

  Narrow steps were carved into the side of the tree, revealing bright yellow wood beneath the black bark. As they wound their way upwards, Zastra saw that further into the forest the mossy ground flattened and turned to teeming swampland. Mists hung above the water, merging with clouds of insects. Shoals of silvery fish darted between clumps of reeds and ducked beneath carpets of lily pads, whilst petite birds with narrow beaks eyed them greedily from atop rotting tree stumps.

  ‘You should be seeing it during the flowering seasons,’ Urbek said proudly. ‘When the lilies bloom, their flowers are the colours of fire. It is like the sunset.’

  It grew brighter as they climbed through the dense canopy formed by the smaller trees, but the yamacha trees formed another canopy, far above, their great rectangular leaves filtering the sunlight to leave a golden-hued twilight. They climbed steadily, and for long enough for Zastra’s thighs to complain, although not as loudly as Morvain.

  ‘This is quite ridiculous,’ the mindweaver said peevishly. ‘What’s the point of all this climbing? Surely we’ll only have to come back down again?’

  They reached a flat sheet of black material, stretched between two branches to form a skin. Urbek stepped onto it, placing his feet a little apart for balance. When Zastra followed, the skin gave a little beneath her feet.

  ‘It is like ko-venteela shoes,’ she said, bouncing gently on the balls of her feet. ‘Will it hold all of us?’

  ‘Oh yes. Lastic is being very strong. Look, there is a proper rubberwood, not the babies Shuyal was trying to grow.’

  He pointed down towards a tree that grew to barely a quarter of the height of the yamacha, but was still huge compared with those on Shuyal’s plantation. Towards its base, a group of ko-yamacha harvested a syrupy liquid as it oozed from a large pipe embedded in the trunk.

  ‘Those are being lastic makers. Very important to our ways of living.’

  A male ko-yamacha dropped onto the skin from above. The lastic sheet recoiled, sending everyone but Urbek tumbling. The man wore a wide cone-shaped hat, secured with a chin strap. A small bird with red feathers and obsidian eyes hopped onto his shoulder.

  ‘Ked-eyi,’ he said, helping Polina up from the still wobbling lastic.

  ‘Ked-eyi, yamalchika,’ Urbek returned the greeting. He turned
to the others. ‘This is being the yamalchika, which is meaning he is the chief of this tree. He is of the bebe clan.’

  The yamalchika made his hands into the shape of a bowl.

  ‘Nna-eyi,’ returned Urbek. Thank you. Their host went towards the trunk, where an engorged leaf grew out from the bark in the shape of a funnel. At the bottom was a pool of clear water. A polished wooden bowl was tied next to it. The yamalchika dipped the bowl into the water and offered it to Urbek, who drank and then passed it round.

  ‘This is being sweetwater,’ he said. ‘The yamacha tree is purifying the rainwater, which is not being safe to drink.’

  Once they had drunk their fill, the yamalchika led them to the other side of the trunk and another lastic platform. A bunch of thick lastic vines were secured to a wooden ring sewn into the edge of the platform. The vines disappeared upwards, their top ends secured to the upper branches of a neighbouring yamacha tree, more than two hundred paces away. Urbek untethered one of the vines.

  ‘We travel by the lastic network,’ he said. Gathering the vine in his hands, he swung across the gap to the other tree, landing on another skin a little higher than the one they were standing on. He secured the bottom of his vine to his new platform and beckoned them over.

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding,’ whispered Gwylla.

  ‘No wonder Urbek showed no fear crossing the gorge,’ Lorzan remarked.

  Zenarbia grabbed a vine and swung across, screeching in delight as she broke through a shaft of pure sunlight that slanted down from the upper canopy. ‘Come on!’ she cried. ‘It’s fun!’

  The others followed. Zastra hung back to check on Gwylla, but the girl barely hesitated.

  ‘Can’t be as bad as that gorge,’ she said, puffing out her cheeks.

  ‘That’s the spirit,’ Zastra said encouragingly. Gwylla blushed and swung across and Zastra followed. The vine seemed to stretch and contract, lifting her easily across the divide between the trees. The lastic mat provided a soft landing.